“I was afraid you were going to run away from us,” he said, playfully.
Gudrun looked up at him with a luminous, roguish, unknown face.
“Really!” she replied. “No, I didn’t want to stay in London.” Her voice seemed to imply that she was glad to get back to Shortlands, her tone was warm and subtly caressing.
“That is a good thing,” smiled the father. “You see you are very welcome here among us.”
Gudrun only looked into his face with dark-blue, warm, shy eyes. She was unconsciously carried away by her own power.
“And you look as if you came home in every possible triumph,” Mr Crich continued, holding her hand.
“No,” she said, glowing strangely. “I haven’t had any triumph till I came here.”
“Ah, come, come! We’re not going to hear any of those tales. Haven’t we read notices in the newspaper, Gerald?”
“You came off pretty well,” said Gerald to her, shaking hands. “Did you sell anything?”
“No,” she said, “not much.”